Color Me Confused
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: "I made plans with Bonnie's mother to have Christmas Eve dinner with them," Mrs. Davis explains casually. As it turns out, that's where Woody is. What will he think of his human counterpart? .:. continuation of Like How I Imagined; same pairing. fourshot.
1. Andy Has Minor Worries

**A/N: Holy crap! I had no idea that this would be so popular! I got eighteen reviews in about two and a quarter days, and a majority of them were asking for a sequel. Well, after seeing TS3 for a second time today, and after getting an amazing review from **_Nocturnal Smile_**, I now have an idea for a mini sequel to **_**Like How I Imagined.**_

**Random: The song, 'Andy, You're A Star' by The Killers is perfect for this sort of thing. Just saying. ;D**

**And now, without further ado, I bring you **_**Color Me Confused.**_

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Andy Davis's life has become quite complicated. Now that this much has been established, he can glaze over the reasons why.

First of all, he has long since lost the simplicity of childhood, when toys were friends; 'sex' was a never-seen, never-heard, foreign word along with 'hormones'; and when school was easy and didn't involve paying for rent and classes.

Second of all, he none-too-recently acquired a steady relationship with someone, and that someone is a male to top it all off. And the worst part? He hasn't told his mother yet. For his Christmas vacation, he's decided to…_ surprise _her. But she's a good mother; she'll be supportive and understanding. He hopes. Maybe in time…?

It's sure to go over horribly.

"Don't be thinkin' neg'tive thoughts, Andy," Wes says to try to lift his boyfriend's spirits. He nudges Andy softly in the arm and flicks up the younger boy's baseball cap. "And don't hide under that thing. I like seeing your face; it helps me figure out what you're thinkin'."

Wesley has been the greatest part of Andy's complex new life, though. He can't deny it; he's falling slowly in love, and it is both frightening and welcome at the same time.

Wes is a clever, determined, and caring individual, even if he can get a little angry and selfish at times when it concerns Andy and others. He can also get extremely jealous depending on the situation, but Andy doesn't mind, because in an odd sort of way, it just proves how wonderful Wes is deep down since he normally learns from his mistakes.

Andy occasionally feels a little pale in comparison, but he doesn't let this get to him because he knows that Wesley doesn't care. Wesley may have had horses while growing up, and he may have done a few bold things Andy would be both thrilled and terrified to have done, but he knows that Wes liked Andy for who he is, not how much he's experienced.

Currently, the couple is in Andy's sky blue car, on the road back to where Andy spent his entire past. He can't believe that it's been five months since he's seen home… and since he met the rancher seated beside him.

"Sorry," Andy replies tiredly as he takes of his hat with one hand and steers with the other. "I'm just nervous. It's Christmas, and I feel bad about lying to my mom, telling her that I was bringing a friend home with me and not my… my…"

"I know, partner," Wes replies, using the term of endearment partially to tease Andy, and partially out of habit. "But everything will be fine; trust me. Nothing bad will happen. I wouldn't stand for it."

Andy smiles gently. "I know, Wes. And that's one of the reasons why I keep you around," he jokes.

The darker-haired brunet laughs. "I was hopin' you were keeping me around for other reasons, but that works, too." He continues to smile as they pass a sign on the highway alerting them that Andy's hometown is approximately twenty miles away now. They're getting closer. In a softer tone, Wesley murmurs, "Do you think your fam'ly will like me?"

The college freshman chuckles reassuringly. "Like you? They'll _adore_ you. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if Molly wants you to be her brother instead of me! Now it's _your _turn to trust _me_: they'll be happy that I'm associated with someone like you."

Wesley grins and leans in toward the driver's side of the vehicle. "And why's that?" he asks, purposely looking for compliments.

Andy flushes, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose burning pink. "W-well, because you're kind, and funny, and heroic when the time is right." He smiles teasingly. "And because you're a cowboy."

The junior makes a face. "Cowboy? I ain't no cowboy… I mean, I used to wish I was, but I'm not like – like –"

"Oh, sure, you are! You've got the boots and the plaid shirts and the dusty, worn jeans and you even own a red handkerchief. What more do I need to label you as a cowboy?"

"The ten-gallon hat," Wes protests meekly. "Although…"

The younger knows where this is going. He finishes for his companion: "Although you do have that one western-styled hat already. The one you wore when we first went fishing together, the kind that keeps the sun out of your eyes."

Wes hangs his head as if in mock-shame. "Well, damn. I really am a cowboy. 'Ppose I got my childhood wish granted after all." He quickly shakes his head and changes the subject. "How 'bout some music? I could go for a little music," and in moments the radio is on and the two are singing off-key Christmas songs for the remainder of the journey.


	2. Homecoming

"Mom!" Andy greets warmly as he steps into the front door and sets down his suitcase. His mother doesn't hesitate to bring her son into her arms, hugging tightly.

"Andy, sweetie! I've missed you so much. How is college? And where's your friend? I can't wait to meet him! Oh, and hurry inside; it's freezing out there!"

Andy smiles at his mother's excitement, and turns to face the snowy ground as he steps out again and takes Wes's traveling pack from him as he steps onto the threshold. Shaking the falling snow from his shoulders, Wes brushes off his hair and reveals his perfectly straight, glimmering white teeth. "Hullo, Mrs. Davis; it's a pleasure t' meet you," he says as he shakes her hand.

"Oh, what a fine gentleman you are," the middle-aged blonde replies. "It's nice that Andy has a friend. He was always so… well, I'm sure he's told you. He's very trusting, too."

"Mom…" Andy groans, displaying his discomfort. His mother giggles in response.

"Sorry, darling. I just love having you home! Why don't you shut the door and put your things away – Wes's in the guest bedroom, please – and we can have some homemade hot cocoa," she offers with a smile.

Andy complies, and Wes says politely, "I reckon I haven't had hot cocoa that wasn't from a store-bought packet. That sure sounds like a treat."

"Oh, believe me, it is," Andy agrees. "It was my favorite thing to have after playing in the snow all day. You'll love it."

"Then I thank your mother kindly," Wes says.

He nods in Mrs. Davis's direction, and as Wes is ushered into the living room, Andy's mother leans over to her son and remarks, "I like him, Andy. He's so sweet, and he reminds me of a cowboy. His accent, and his clothes! Adorable. Where's he from? You said it was far and that's why you wanted him to stay with us, but how far is 'far,' exactly?"

Andy flushes at the word, 'adorable' (because he can't help but to agree on some level) and answers in a returning whisper, "He's from New Mexico. He lives on a ranch."

"Oh wow," Mrs. Davis replies, amazed. "Now that makes sense."

Nodding, Andy carries his and Wes's suitcases upstairs. As he ventures up each step, he takes in the familiar unfamiliarity of subtle changes and the change itself of being away for so long. He's been to summer camp, but that was weeks, not months; this feels odd, coming home, but also very enjoyable.

He missed the little things, like Buster and Molly's bratty pop music and… and his toys. Huh. He never looked at them much when they sat for a few years in his toy chest, but now that they aren't there, he can't even reminisce. – Not that he would with Wesley here, but still, it's strange to know that the objects he kept for so long aren't even in the attic for nostalgia. It almost… _hurts._

Downstairs, Andy can hear Wesley meeting and conversing with Molly. She sounds flirtatious; apparently, even the preteen sees how attractive Wesley is. It amuses Andy to no end, his little sister being flirty in that childish way to a twenty-year-old. He wonders idly if his mother will care about the two-year age difference when he tells her that he's actually dating this 'friend.' She probably won't care, since it's merely two years, but he still fears how she will react, since neither one of them saw something like this coming…

But Mrs. Davis has never come off as a homophobe, so Andy prays that things will turn out as Wes said: utterly fine.

So far, Wes has been correct. But only ten minutes have passed, and there are about thirteen days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes that remain.

oXoXoXo

On the fourth night of being home, during dinner, Andy gathers up his courage following grace to make an announcement. "Mom, Molly: I have something I want to tell you."

Sensing the approaching news, Wesley scoots his chair slightly away from Andy and shoves some food into his mouth. Despite telling Andy that the events that will transpire after he confesses the truth about them will be perfectly all right, he secretly isn't sure, and worries. He doesn't want to lose Andy because of a disapproving family; he loves Andy.

"Please, dear, come right out and say it; you know I don't like it when you keep things to yourself," Mrs. Davis says to assure her son. She has her suspicions, judging by the way a certain pair of boys have been glancing at one another the past few days, but she would rather have her son tell her the truth himself instead of leaving it up to her to assume. Besides, what if she's wrong? She'd just feel _awful._

"Are you gonna tell us that you're gay?" Molly bursts out in an accusatory tone. "'Cause I already knew that. I saw you two holding hands." She leans in and says in a harsh whisper, "_And your fingers were laced together._"

"Molly!" Mrs. Davis snaps, and glares at her daughter.

Andy looks horrified, his eyes wide, his cheeks blossoming into a rich red, and his mouth clamped shut. Wesley looks a tad uncomfortable. Gently, Wes sets down his fork and looks directly at Molly as he says firmly: "Yes, he was 'bout t' break the news t' you both that he 'n' I are dating, and we were hopin' that we had your mother's blessing."

Mrs. Davis jumps right in. "Oh, of 'course you two have my blessing! I love my Andy no matter what, and to be honest, I knew. A mother always knows." She smiles at Andy, who seems to be recovering. "Alright, dear? Nothing's changed just because you found a boy to like in college. I'm not sure if this is just a phase of college curiosity or sexual confusion or if it's serious, but I honestly don't care. _And,"_ she says, shooting Molly a look, "I know your sister doesn't care, either. _Right, _Molly?"

Finally, she's cracking down on Molly and actually attempting to snuff out the young blonde's bratty attitude. At least Andy has that going for him. And did she say that she doesn't care?

"You really don't mind? Like, at all?" Andy says lowly, his blue eyes falling to his dinner plate as he twists his hands nervously beneath the table.

His mother's answer is loving and calm. She knew from the start how desperately Andy needed to hear her say this. "Yes, Andy: I don't mind. Wesley is a good boy. Aren't you, Wes?"

Wes smiles with relief. "I'd like to think so, ma'am."

"And you care about my son, don't you?"

Wes glances over at Andy, and without taking his eyes off of him, he mutters, "I most cert'ly do."

Mrs. Davis grins widely. "Then there are no problems."

Andy finally brings his eyes up to everyone else's level. He drops his hands from their shifting motions and nods, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Well, on that note, can we eat?" Molly sarcastically requests. "The tension was killing me."


	3. Woody Is Colorfully Conflicted

**A/N: This is the last one for this little threeshot series. I know it ends a little randomly (according to someone I shared this with early), but I like where it stopped, so... yeah, it stays, LOL.**

**Thanks for supporting me with this story and, if you've read it (which you should have first), 'Like How I Imagined'! Ta-ta! ;D**

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"I made plans with Bonnie's mother to have Christmas Eve dinner with them since we both decided not to have family over this year," Mrs. Davis explains casually as she gathers up her coat and gloves and takes her car keys off of the hook by the door. "I'm going out to get some of the groceries for the meal; we're doing a sort of potluck. Watch Molly while I'm gone, and remember: no funny-business!"

"Mom!" Andy and Molly say at the same time, Molly's whinier than her brother's.

"I can watch myself," Molly pouts.

"And Wes and I know better than to… _do_ anything while Molly's around," Andy mumbles while Wesley conceals a smirk behind his hand.

"Oh, I understand that, Andy, but I like to tease. And Molly, don't even start; just be nice to your brother and his boyfriend." She blows her children a kiss goodbye, and then closes the door behind her.

"Dinner at Bonnie's house, did she say?" Molly says in an annoyed voice. "Great. I'm going to be so bored! Bonnie is like, what, four or five years old? Jeez. I mean, she's cute and all, but what are we supposed to do, play Candy Land with her?"

"Molly, go watch TV or something," Andy retorts. He hates it that Molly is acting so snotty, especially about going to Bonnie's house. Bonnie is a really sweet little girl with a big imagination who takes good care of her toys. In fact, she's reminds Andy of a young, female version of himself, so he doesn't like hearing bad things spoken about her.

"Who's Bonnie?" Wes asks as soon as Molly is finished rolling her eyes and storming out of the room.

"She's this little girl who lives a block away," Andy tells Wes as the two of them wander upstairs and sit on the guest bed. "Her mom and mine are friends. They met back when Molly used to go to Sunnyside Daycare; Bonnie's mom works there."

"I see," Wes nods. "So we'll be going there for dinner on the day after tomorrow?"

Andy nods his head a couple times. "Looks like it. But I don't mind; I like Bonnie. She's like the shy, nice sister I never had."

Wesley chuckles. "Molly does seem like a bit of a…" He clears his throat. "She's not very well behaved. I wouldda been smacked upside the head for talking back like she does."

The younger college student rolls his eyes. "I don't know how she got to be this way. Maybe it's the girls at her school being a bad influence on her, but whatever the case, she's a total brat."

" Jus' 'magine if she was your older sister instead. That'd be worse," Wesley jokes. "She'd bully you 'round and take your stuff just to bug ya."

Andy scowls. "She's already done that repeatedly. But I think what really bothers me is that she's become so ungrateful about all of the things she gets and already has. Did you know that before I left, she was saying how she's going to take my room because it's bigger than hers, and then got rid of a bunch of perfectly good toys and stuff because she's rather have an iPod? It was ridiculous!"

Wesley frowns. "That _is_ ridic'lous and ungrateful. Was she always like that?"

Andy shakes his head. Sadly, he replies, "No, not always. She used to be a little stinker, always getting into things she shouldn't have and liked to ruin my games, but she was also really cute and creative. But now all she does is sit on her butt and read _Tween_ magazine or watch _America's Top Model_." He sighs. "I don't get it, Wes: what has it come to? Kids aren't kids anymore; they all want to hurry and grow up and never use their imaginations. They like things handed to them, especially technology. I mean, I like my cell phone and laptop as much as the next guy, but I don't know… It just feels like I had a lot more fun as a kid, and I kept it for a long as I could. I… didn't want to grow up. But all the newer generations can't wait to."

Wesley lays his hand on Andy's shoulder, his grip firm and warm. "I know exactly how you feel, Andy. I've been thinkin' the same thing since I entered high school some six er seven years ago. But it's not something we can change or stop." He releases Andy's shoulder, and it quickly grows cold. Andy wishes that Wes would put his hand back, but he keeps the wish to himself.

He stands up from the bed and motions for Wesley to follow. "Come on, Wes; I have a hankering for hot chocolate. Let's go make some."

"Sure thing," Wesley concurs as he stands and stretches. He tags along behind Andy as they migrate to the kitchen. Andy's mother has some of her homemade hot chocolate in an airtight container, the chocolate chips, cocoa powder, and various spices visible through the clear plastic. "Looks good~!"

"All we need is some warm milk," Andy says. He takes out two mugs and dumps two tablespoons of powder into each before pouring some milk into a small pot. He heats the pot on the stove until it steams but doesn't bubble. He then shuts off the gas, carefully tips the pot over, and fills the two mugs. He offers a spoon to his boyfriend. "Here, you can stir yours."

While stirring, Wes steals a glance at Andy. "D'ya think your mother told our Christmas Eve host about us?"

Andy's face scrunches up. "I'm sure she did," he says as he lays down his spoon and lifts the mug to his lips. "It's not something that can be kept secret for very long anyway."

"True," Wes agrees with a sigh. Before he can taste his own cocoa, Andy jumps and yelps. Wes sets his mug down and peers over at Andy. "'Re you alright?"

Andy shakes his head and fans his tongue as it hangs out of his mouth. There's a tear in the corner of a squinted blue eye. "I burmt meh tonguh," Andy wails pathetically. Wes starts to snicker. "Et's nut funneh!" Andy wails louder.

Wes shakes his head. "I dis'gree; it's pretty damn funny 'cause you look…" _Cute,_ he had been about to say. He cuts himself off and opts instead to lean forward and catch Andy's chin in one hand. He's tempted to kiss Andy's tongue and make it feel better, like a band-aid, but he isn't that sort of guy. So he merely smoothes his thumb under Andy's bottom lip to make him close his mouth and to wipe away the chocolaty wetness. "Wait for it to cool next time," he instructs lightheartedly.

Andy nods dumbly, his cheeks tinting pink. "Yeah, okay."

oXoXoXo

The night arrives. Andy is dressed in a sleek red sweater with a tight white undershirt beneath, his jeans a clean, dark blue, fresh from the store. The sweater is soft and complimentary to his physique, but he dislikes how it looks because it's such a sore-thumb shade of red, as obvious as holly berries on dead, snowy trees.

"I feel silly in sweaters," Andy huffs as Wes buttons up a shirt he brought with him. He's lucky enough not to be forced into wearing a sweater as well, like some hideous green one of the same style to match.

The older male chuckles and ruffles Andy's sandy brown hair. "Personally, I think you look great, but my opin'on is biased, so don't listen t' me."

Andy bats Wesley's hand away in good jest and pokes the taller male squarely between his pectorals. "You're right, your opinion _is_ biased; so I guess I just won't ask you for it ever again."

Wes puts a hand over his heart as if both the poke and words wounded him. "You cut me deep, Andy," he says with a fake pout. It immediately evolves into a grin. "Are you ready t' go?"

Finished messing around, Andy nods. "Yup. Just let me put some gel in my hair –"

"Oh, forget the gel; your hair is fine, dear," Mrs. Davis puts in as she comes into the doorway. She smiles. "My, don't you two look handsome. But I need your manly muscles to help me carry my casserole and brownies; I have to bring Bonnie's gifts out to the trunk."

"Okay," Andy shrugs. He gives his mother a one-armed hug as he walks past her, giving her a quick compliment on how nice her new perfume smells. She smiles and tells him and Wes to meet her at the car, and she informs him that Molly is already inside.

Minutes later, Wes and Andy are seated side-by-side in the backseat with large class trays on their laps. Molly is seated up front in the passenger's side, and their mother is sliding into the driver's seat. "Here we go!" she says in a chipper tone.

The ride doesn't take long. It felt longer months ago when Andy went by himself, basing his location only on house number a street name, since he had never before visited Bonnie's house. And as he approaches the home now, the summery, flowery August scenery gone and replaced with sparkling snow and unlit multi-colored lights (it's barely three in the afternoon), it feels strange and foreign. He both feels like he doesn't belong here and yet in the same token needs to be here for some inexplicable reason.

They ay their hellos and enter the teeny, cozy house to find a small fire roaring in the tiny fireplace. Since only two people live in the abode, everything is quaint, like a dollhouse. Bonnie hides behind her mother's legs when she sees Molly, Mrs. Davis, and Wesley, but as soon as she spots Andy, she comes running up to him and he scoops her up into his arms.

"Andy!" she says, smiling brightly with light shining in her hazel eyes. Her smile is missing a tooth. Her voice is shy and quiet, but she says excitedly: "Look, I lost a baby tooth! And I put it in Hamm and in the morning, there was a whole quarter there instead!"

"Is that so?" Andy says with a chuckle, his tone amused. He gives Bonnie a little squeeze before putting her down. He crouches down to be somewhat eyelevel with the young girl. "And what about the other toys I have you? How have they been?"

"Goooood," Bonnie giggles as she twists side-to-side with her hips, her hands clasped behind her back. She glances up at Andy as she drops her hands to grip the red Christmas tutu over tiny black dress pants. "I keep them clean and happy. They sleep with me every night."

"I'm glad to hear that," Andy answers warmly. Above the two of them, Wesley and the two mothers are engaged in conversation while Molly is off in the family room by the fire with a Nintendo DSi in her hands, playing some fashion game. Andy ignores them all and asks, "Want to show me?"

"Yeah!" Bonnie says in a chipper tone. She tugs on his hand, and he bends over as he's dragged toward her room. "This is my room. It's got drawings and butterflies and a tea set and all of my toys. It's pretty, isn't it?"

It's messy and colorful, but the drawings on the wall make Andy smile. There are drawings of the toys Bonnie already had, but there are also drawings of Andy's old toys that she now possesses. There are ones of Buzz and Jessie holding hands, of Woody riding Bullseye through a desert, and of Rex and a triceratops terrorizing some spiders. Apparently, Bonnie doesn't like spiders.

"These are really good," Andy remarks as he touches a drawing of Woody by himself. "You have a talent for crayon."

"You… really think so?" Bonnie's voice is small and her round little cheeks are blushing. "'Cause I wanna make cartoons when I grow up. I like cartoons. I'd make cartoons 'bout witches and ghosts and castles with monsters and aliens, and then there'd be a cowboy like Woody as the hero 'cause cowboys are tough and cool."

Andy smiles warmly. "Yeah, they are. And I bet you would make really amazing cartoons, Bonnie. I'd watch them, even if I was a grown-up myself."

"You would? But I thought grown-ups don't like cartoons," Bonnie says glumly. "Least, my mommy doesn't like cartoons much. She says they rot my brain meat."

Chuckling, the teenager shakes his head. "Nah, they don't rot your brain. They make you smarter! Why do you think I'm so smart, going to college and stuff? It's because I watched cartoons."

Bonnie's face lights up immediately. "Good! Then I'll keep watching them, 'cause I want to be smart, too."

Just then, Wesley steps into the room, one of his knuckles knocking on the open door to state his presence. "Hey, y'all. What're you doing in here?"

"She's showing me that she's taking care of my old toys," Andy says simply. He smiles at Wes. "And you know what? She's been doing a good job."

Wes laughs and comes over to Andy to rest his elbow on Andy's shoulder. "I reckon she would. She's a good girl, I can tell."

"Th-thank you," Bonnie says, embarrassed. She looks down at her shoes and plays with the colored beads around her neck. Glancing back up, she tilts her head cutely to the side. "Hey, what's your name? You sound like a cowboy. Are you a sheriff like Woody?"

"Not that cowboy stuff again!" Wesley smiles in amusement. He crouches down to Bonnie's level. She takes a step backward, though, because Wesley is a very handsome young man. "But I did raise horses while I was growin' up, and I sound like a cowboy 'cause I'm from out west. I lived in a state called New Mexico, but in New Mexico we don't have that many sheriffs anymore. So naw, I'm no sheriff, but I wouldda been if we had 'em, 'cause sheriffs help people. They're part of the police, you know."

"I know!" Bonnie says with a grin. "Because Woody's a sheriff, and he does police-stuff. He stops robberies and saves girls in trouble and rides a 'noble steed;' that's what my mommy says he does, anyways."

"That's precisely right," Wes says with a think of one of his brown eyes. "Now then," he says as he stands up to full height once again, "Can I steal Andy back? He and I have to go eat dinner. I heard that you already ate, though."

"I did," Bonnie says almost proudly. She warmed up to Wesley awfully fast, Andy notices. "I had chicken nuggets 'cause Mommy knows that I don't like casserole or beef roast. But I like brownies! She said you guys brought brownies."

Andy nods. "Tons of brownies. And you can have one later, I promise; I'll save you the biggest one. But Wes's right, I have to go now. I'll play with you later, okay, Bon-Bon?"

Giggling at the new nickname, Bonnie nods. "'Kay~!" and she skips off to the other corner of her room to scoop up some of her toys to play with them as the two boys leave.

oXoXoXo

"Did you see that?" a voice murmurs to someone next to them. "That was weird. That guy looked a lot like Woody; he even acted kinda like 'im!"

"Yes… and he was leaning against Andy. Do you think they are friends?" the other replies.

The first voice shrugs their shoulders. "There's only one way to find out, if yer up to it."

"You mean…?"

"That's right: we're taking a li'l trip outside the room, Buzz. I gotta see what's goin' on."

"But Jessie, it's Christmas Eve! New toys will be arriving tonight and tomorrow, and there are quite a lot of humans out there –"

"You know I dun care 'bout all that! I'm a woman of action, Buzz: I need ter know what's goin' on."

Sighing, the reluctant space ranger follows her across the room. Bonnie, their new owner, is out at the moment, most likely consuming sweets. They slink out of the door that was left ajar and creep out into the hallway. Woody was taken with Bonnie, and in moments they see his boots dangling from the crook of her arm.

The two toys move around, ducking between chairs, potted plants, and Christmas décor until they reach the gap between the couch and the wall. They listen in to the conversation, and peer curious eyes around the edge of the couch to glance into a mirror on the wall to get a better look at the scene taking place in the living room.

They gather that the man next to Andy is a college student by his looks and goes by the name of Wes from what Andy calls him. The human's resemblance to Woody is uncanny, and practically down to a tee.

"This is freaky," Jessie whispers to her companion. "That 'Wes' guy reminds me too much of Woody. Where in tarnation did Andy meet _him?_"

"He _is_ rather peculiar. Perhaps Andy befriended him on purpose because of his resemblance to Woody?"

"Why would Andy want to be around someone who's similar to a toy of his?" the red-yawn-haired cowgirl poses with a confused expression on her face.

The astronaut twitches in his spacesuit, a sort of shrug. "I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps because Andy hasn't had that many friends, so he only knows people who are like his material friends?"

"I guess that might make sense. But, Buzz?"

"What?"

"I dun think Wes 'n' Andy are _just _friends…" she says with widening eyes.

The other toy pulls an odd facial expression. "Then… what are you saying their relationship is?"

"Isn't it obvious? Look at how close they're sitting, and where Wes's hand is," she hints.

He cocks his purple-covered head to the side. It takes a moment, but then he notices that Wes's arm travels behind Andy and ends with his fingers curled loosely on Andy's waist. He blinks a few times, the confusion lifting. His mouth falls into the shape of an uppercase 'O', and the cowgirl beside him nods vigorously. "Ah… I get it now."

The cowgirl toy pats her companion on the shoulder. "Yep. And it's weird."

"I wonder what Woody thinks of this? He must hate not being able to express anything at the moment…"

The redhead suppresses a loud laugh. Her green eyes twinkle deviously. "I have a feeling that he's even more puzzled than we are, Buzz. And can't you just imagine his face? If I were him, I'd be _twitching_."

oXoXoXo

He really wants to twitch, because it's the only thing that can communicate his various feelings at the moment. Because all at once, Woody wants to drop his jaw, facepalm, yell, or tear something in half.

This _person_ who _looks_ and _sounds_ and _acts_ so much like himself is _hanging_ on Andy and Andy is _smiling_ and _leaning into the touch_ and it's _just so wrong_ because Woody feels oddly _jealous_, and it's _infuriating._

He can't describe his feelings, but he knows one thing for sure: part of him is somewhat prideful about this, and the other part of him is vengeful.

Woody is oddly prideful because, _obviously,_ Andy liked Woody enough to want to find and be with someone similar to him, but he's also oddly vengeful because he wants to break them up somehow because they just shouldn't be together because of the fact of the aforementioned reason.

Conflicted and stranded in plain sight, Woody can only internalize his need to twitch and scowl and stare blankly in frustration, jealousy, and confusion.

Hmm, Woody thinks idly, what a colorful array of emotions to have for a toy.

Because due to this little mix of emotions, Woody is half tempted to expose himself by leaping out of Bonnie's arms and telling off this _Wesley_ character, because two cowboys should never be associated with the same possession, which in this case is a young man by the name of Andy.


	4. Resolving Some Issues

**A/N: This is officially the final installment of this story, but I will be doing a oneshot or two about Ben and Jessica, as well as Ben and Wes as kids, with Andy involved here and there, but mainly with the three toys' counterparts because I really like their human versions and want s chance to write for the two I haven't yet. C:**

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**

"Woody, this is insanity!" Buzz protests in a harsh whisper as Bonnie rolls over in her sleep. The cowboy is slipping out from under the loving embrace she has around her toys to sneak out the cracked door.

"It might be, Buzz, but I can't stand for this. I have to do this," the brunet toy replies firmly. He's dead serious about this; about exposing himself to Wesley to speak his mind. There are certain things a toy simply cannot take, and when their buttons are pushed they must act! – This is partially due to how they're programmed or manufactured, but also partially due to their morals.

In the words of some famous movie, 'a toy's gotta do what a toy's gotta do!'

…Or something like that.

"But Woody, showing yourself is suicide! It might have worked with Sid, but you don't know how this outcome will be different!" Buzz tries yet again as Woody walks across the floor towards the door. The spaceman runs up behind his friend and yanks back on his shoulder, forcing Woody to face his friend part of the way. Woody stops and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes looking away from Buzz's face. Buzz scowls. "Dammit, Woody, you have to listen to me: it's none of our business. Just leave it alone."

Woody's response is livid. He hisses, "None of our business? _None_ of our _business?_ Buzz, We might be living with Bonnie now, but Andy will always be our true owner since he was the first and longest one. He's important to me, even if he isn't to you. I still care about what befalls him, and I can't simply lay on the sidelines, limp and useless, while he's replacing me with a human counterpart of mine."

"Human counterpart?" Buzz frowns. "Is that what you think he is? Look, Woody, you have to be reasonable –"

"I _am_ being reasonable! I need to do this!"

Acting as though he hadn't been cut off, Buzz continues: "– And understand that the fact that Wes looks a little bit like you – ("More like, 'a LOT like me,' Woody mumbles under his breath,) – and has a similar personality doesn't make him some human clone of yours. It's just a coincidence."

"Nothing is coincidence, Buzz. I thought you would've seen that by now, takin' into account all we've been through. You think any of that was just _coincidence_?" Woody hisses back, still being ever-so-careful not to wake Bonnie.

The space ranger sighs. "No, it probably wasn't. But believe me when I say that this time, things are different. This time, it _is_ only a coincidence."

Woody tears his gaze away from Buzz's and proceeds to march toward the door, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're wrong, Buzz. And I'm going to prove it. I may not always be right, but I was right about a few things in the past; Stinky Pete and Sunnyside to name two."

Buzz admits it: Woody has a point there. He shakes his head and runs a gloved hand over his head, the plastic smooth and cool. "Alright, fine. Go, then. Just don't do anything you'll regret."

But Woody doesn't hear him; he's already out in the hallway.

oXoXoXo

"Would you boys like a small glass of wine?" Bonnie's mother offers. "I know you're not of age, but a little bit ever hurt anybody. It's just to warm you and give you a taste."

"Oh, I'm not sure…" Andy's mother says before her son can answer. "I mean, we're here to monitor them, but what if they develop a bad habit?"

"Mom, it's fine, really," Andy says kindly. "Besides, I don't want any. I'll admit that I've tried alcohol, and none of it tastes good to me. So I'll pass."

"Well, uh, I don't want to seem lib'ral or anythin', but I wouldn't mind some. My Ma used to give me a smidge from Pop's glass after I turned eighteen. She says that kids in Europe drink wine with meals all the time, and most of 'em were younger than I was, so why can't I enjoy it, too?" Wes adds.

Bonnie's mother laughs and nods. "See, exactly! Now this boy was raised right," she jokes. "Not that drinking is acceptable, mind you, but I've always felt that way. Maybe it's because I'm a young mom, but it's what I think. Besides, eighteen-year-olds can vote and fight for our country, so why can't they have a little wine or beer to celebrate these accomplishments?"

"Well, then go get Wesley some, but Andy and I will just have a water, if you don't mind," Mrs. Davis says with a smile.

"Not at all," Bonnie's mom says, and disappears into the kitchen for a moment.

"I'll be right back," Wes says politely. "I gotta use the restroom."

"Okay," Andy says, and smiles as he watches Wesley leave. The college freshman turns to his mother and remarks, "I'm glad that Bonnie's mother was so accepting, like you were. And Bonnie is too young to understand, which is nice because I don't want either of them mad at me."

"They would never be mad at you, dear," Mrs. Davis replies. "You're a good kid, and they love you since you're like family to them."

Nodding, Andy says, "Yeah, I guess. But I wonder how Wes feels about this. You don't think he resents all the stuff I force him into, do you?"

"Oh, heaven's, no! I'm sure he doesn't mind one bit, Andy. I think he just likes making you happy," his mother says with a short gasp and then a pat on his knee.

Elsewhere, Wesley is humming to himself as he washes his hands. As he steps out of the restroom, the rancher notices something moving in the study. He ventures into the dimly lit, vacant room and takes a look around.

He doesn't see much at first; a computer, some books on a bookcase, a desk and chair. But then, he notices something on the desk: one of Bonnie's toys.

"Well hullo, how did you get in here?" Wes says amusedly as he steps over to the desk and reaches out a hand to grab the doll.

Without warning, however, the toy leaps up on its own accord and flicks on the touch-activated lamp nearby on the desktop. Wesley yelps, startled, and jumps backward.

"What in the name of –"

"Hello, Wesley," Woody grins, his voice darker than usual. "Please, take a seat and chat with me."

"Wh… what…?" Wes sputters. Has he lost his mind, or is he actually seeing a talking, moving, _living _western toy before him? Nonetheless, he obediently (and thankfully) falls into the chair situated next to the desk, most likely placed there for Bonnie whenever her mother uses the computer.

"Let me introduce myself: My name is Woody, and I'm Andy's old toy." He offers his hand, but he knows his human counterpart won't shake it. Taking his hand back and clasping it with the other behind his back, Woody continues by pacing the edge of the desk and saying: "If you don't mind my asking, what is your relationship with my kid? And how did you meet him?"

"Ah, uh… W-well, I met Andy in college. He was out walkin' one night, and we weren't looking and ended up runnin' into each other. And, erm, 'bout a week later, I… asked him out."

Woody's eyes narrow. "As in, on a date?"

The college junior nods sheepishly. "Yes… so?"

Woody feels something inside him boil over, and he bursts out, "You can't!"

"Why not?"

If Woody could blush, he would. He swallows hard instead and glances away. "Because, it's just… _strange. _It would be like – like – "

"…Like _you_ dating him?" Wesley says, everything clicking in place suddenly. He leans forward and peers into Woody's face, and suddenly he can see precisely how similar the two of them are. He forces a smile. "I understand now. It flatters and embarrasses you, and confuses you a li'l b'cause you admire him so much. You've been with him a long time, much longer than I have, or pro'ly ever will, 'cause as much as I love Andy, I know that if someday he doesn't want me anymore, I'll leave b'cause I know it will make him happier if I'm gone. I think we're on the same page, partner: you 'n' I want what's best for Andy, and it bothers you that I'm the one who gets to take care and be there for him now 'steadda you."

Woody lifts his chin upwards defiantly, but he says, "Sadly, I think you've hit the nail on the head." He half-groans, half-sighs, and removes his hat for a moment to run his hand over his painted hair. Wesley smiles, because it's not at all unlike one of his own habits.

"Don't worry, Woody; you can trust me. After all, all my life, I've always admired your character, striving to hopefully be like you. It's just a happy coincidence that I somewhat succeeded and ended up meetin' Andy."

"Humph, coincidence. So it's like that Buzz said after all," Woody grumbles to himself.

"Buzz?" Wes questions, the name sounding familiar to him.

Woody snorts. "Yeah, Buzz Lightyear. He's my best friend, but I hate it when he's right and I'm wrong."

"My brother Ben loves Buzz!" Wes says, chuckles lightly. "You know, my brother almost looks like him, too? He's shorter 'n me and has blue eyes and blackish-brown hair and he wears lotsa purple 'n' green. He wants to go into space, too, because of that silly toy and cartoon. It's kinda funny, really."

Woody blinks and stares at him for a moment. "That's bizarre…" Because that means Buzz has a human counterpart, too. But what about Jessie? "Do you know any red-haired girls?"

Wesley cocks his head to his left. "As a matter of fact, I do. Her name's Jessica. She's Ben's fiancé – Benjamin's older 'n me, you see – and she's our old childhood pal. Her family owns the ranch we got our horses from."

"Does she have green eyes and say 'yee-haw' a lot? Maybe yodel sometimes?"

Wesley looks stunned, now. "How did you know that 'bout her…?"

"'Cause I'm figuring something out, that's how. It seems to me that a lot of us have what I suppose could be human versions of ourselves. It makes me wonder why that is…" Woody says lowly, his hand holding his chin, his pointer finger tapping on his jaw.

Wes shrugs his shoulders. "'M not sure, pal, but I do know one thing: I'm never gonna forget that I spent part of Christmas Eve talkin' to a friggin' _toy._ Are all toys like this?"

Woody shrugs. "All ones with faces, anyway. That reminds me: I need to go. Tell Andy… tell him that Woody misses him. He'll think you're joking or crazy, but I want him to know anyway. And Wesley?"

"Please, call me Wes."

"Wes." He says, trying the name out on his tongue. It suits the human, and it oddly could suit himself as well. "Wes, promise me you won't ever intentionally hurt Andy. Promise me you won't break his heart."

The rancher's face softens into a tender expression. "I swear on my life, cross my heart and hope to die," he pledges with his right hand over his chest, his finger drawing an 'X' over his sternum.

"And stick a needle in your eye if you break it?" Woody adds half-teasingly, half-seriously.

Wes grins and nods. "And stick a needle in my eye."

"I'm glad. You know, I had my doubts about you," Woody begins. He holds out his hand again. "But I'm glad that you proved me wrong. You're a good man."

"And so are you," Wes says, shaking the toy's miniature hand. He salutes the toy with two fingers as he stands. "I better go, too; I got people waitin' for me, and I'm sure you do as well."

And that was the end of that.

oXoXoXo

"Sorry I took so long," Wesley apologizes as he comes to sit next to Andy and grab the younger boy's hand, their fingers lacing together automatically, as if they've always been this way. As if they've always known one another. And on some level, they have, except in different forms. "But as a consolation, Woody says that he misses you."

Andy stares at his boyfriend for a moment, his facial expression blank and surprised prior to melting into a warm smile. "Stop it, Wes! You're so weird," and he laughs. But a tiny part o him believes it.

"Who wants to play Apples to Apples?" Mrs. Davis and Bonnie's mom say in unison, looking at the two college boys hopefully.

"We would," Andy says, nudging Wes. "Right?"

"Darn tootin'," Wesley concurs. "I love that game. It's helluva lot of fun."

oXoXoXo

"So how did it go, Woody? You look fine, so he must've not've flipped out and hurt you…" Jessie comments as soon as Woody finishes climbing back onto Bonnie's bed.

"He didn't hurt me, and his 'flip out' was temporary. But after we started talking about Andy, he loosened up and became… really understanding. It was strange, but not unwelcome. He's… a good match for Andy. And I feel like I can stop worrying about him now, because he's in good hands." Woody answers as he slips back under the covers to his rightful place in Bonnie's line of toys.

"I'm actually proud of you, Woody. You've actually learned something, even if you made an idiot move and revealed yourself," Buzz remarks. His face suddenly cracks into a sly grin. "But I hope you do realize that Jessie and I will never let you live this down."

"Yup, you're pretty much in fer hell," the redhead says cheerfully. " 'Cause now I can sing, 'Woody's got a crush on An-dyyy, Woody's datin' An-dyyy~" she whisper-sings, so not to wake Bonnie.

Woody hides his face in his hat. "Please stop it, Jessie."

"Never!" she laughs breathlessly. "Woody loooves An-dyyy…"

Buzz shakes his head, but he's smiling.

Woody, being the clever soul he is, thinks of something to shut the two of them up. "Oh, by the way: I found out something interesting… You know how Wesley is like a human version of me? Well, as it turns out, he has a brother named Ben and a friend named Jessica, and the two are madly in love, 's well as engaged."

It works; Jessie's mouth clamps shut and Buzz appears to lose all train of thought, his face falling.

Grinning, Woody rolls over onto his side away from them and says with closed eyes and a smile, "Goodnight, guys. See you in the morning. And be happy; it's Christmas!"

And, as they say, everybody lived happily ever after, surrounded by family, lovers, and friends.


End file.
